


A Devil in My Ear

by semnai



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Corruption, Dark, Dark!Thorin, Demon!Thorin, Fear, Ficlet, M/M, Minor Violence, Present Day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/semnai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The devil is in the details, and Thorin is not one to disappoint. His greatest pleasure and challenge is in corrupting those who are guiltless, such as one Bilbo Baggins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Devil in My Ear

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from my friend Danielle who asked for Demon!Thorin and innocent Bilbo

He walks slowly, purposefully down the dimly lit sidewalk. He doesn’t glance right or left to the many bars he passes. To him, that’s easy. People there were already corrupted or well way on the road there. There was no challenge. No. The true sport of corruption lay in those who had deemed themselves incorruptible, those who were innocent and untouched like a white linen sheet. 

Just thinking about it gave him raw pleasure, seeing those types fissure and crumble under his patient deceptions and deceit. With time, their hard fast morals ooze away, and their souls become as black as his eyes. And if there was one thing Thorin had, it was time. Now all he needed was his next project.

Thorin spies him, pushing past a rowdy group of people standing in front a theater and muttering his apologies. He’s shorter than average, with a mess of curly light brown hair. He is in a hurry, probably to get off the streets this late at night and get back home.

He could hear his thoughts: the man was worried about his bills this month, about feeding his dog, about what to have for dinner. Such ordinary, mundane thoughts. He is a good man, or as good as one could be these days. Wealthy, but kind. Volunteers once a week. Is well liked by his nephews and friends. Unmarried. Quiet and unassuming. Name is Bilbo. Brave and staunchly loyal. All these things appear before Thorin in his mind like a file folder had been placed before him. Thorin smiles. 

He watches the man climb up several steps to the door of his flat, unlock it, disappear inside. 

He clenches his hands in anticipation. This is going to be so much fun. 

Thorin fades in and out of his dreams that night. It is the best way to get a measure of his hopes and dreams, his vices and his wants, and his weaknesses. It was beautiful seeing any human like this, completely relaxed and free to be molded in any way his will desires. The project would have no idea what was going on. Of course it isn’t permanent, but it plants the thought, and from that seed, a weed can grow if nurtured properly. 

He whispers malice and greed and fear and anger. After several days, he even appears in his room, climbing on to the bed, his illusion of a body next to Bilbo’s, his tongue in his ear. His hand softly rests on his sleeping face. It’s not peaceful or restful, just how Thorin likes it. There’s a fear lurking under his skin. Waiting to be released. 

In his mind, Thorin approaches Bilbo. He’s having a nightmare of sorts, in a dark, musty forest; wolves can be heard in the distance. Bilbo jumps as he hears the dry leaves crackle under Thorin’s feet. He turns spins around to face Thorin, eying him warily. 

“Who are you?” he asks, in a hushed shaky voice. 

Thorin smiles confidently. If Bilbo looked closer he would see the malice behind it. Wolves howl again far off and Bilbo takes a step back, glancing around him. 

Thorin’s eyes flick black. Bilbo sees only the darkness surrounding him, holding a large stick in his hand like a sword. Thorin almost pities him. All that bravery will soon be manipulated to a different focus. 

Thorin steps behind him, his lips at his ear. Howls are heard in front of them, and Bilbo barely flinches, only raising his makeshift sword. 

“The wolves aren’t your enemies, Bilbo.”

Bilbo’s eyes dart to the side as he takes this in. “They aren’t?” he says softly.

“No,” the still voice says in his ear. “Invite them in.”

Bilbo’s breathing is ragged and he’s hesitating. 

Thorin’s arm curls around his waist, and he presses his lips to Bilbo’s jaw. “Invite them in.”

Bilbo swallows, lowering the stick. As if a signal, shadows flick out of the woods darting around Bilbo and Thorin. Thorin steps away from Bilbo, arms wide and welcoming. 

“Feast.”

The shadows shriek with glee and descend upon the lone figure of Bilbo, pale and frozen. Thorin can feel his despair and fear as they pull him to the ground and draw screams of pain from his throat.

Thorin kneels beside Bilbo between the wolf shadows, and gently threads his fingers through his curls. Bilbo’s eyes close, from the sensation or the pain. Or both. 

One of the shadows ceases its assault on Bilbo and curls up on his chest. Thorin pets that too. 

“There, there,” he whispers. “We’ll all be good friends soon.”


End file.
